Two Thousand And
Once upon a time, time
weighed hardly anything:
three digits set in a line,
barely a row. Assembling
the years helped to recall
how long since that prophet
emerged from people,
how long since he left.
From the beginning, years
have been love letters
to things that disappear
and remain. We better
trust time to tell us when
big stuff occurs, how else
can anything happen
if we are not here to help
future Earthlings know
what we did before they
got here. We will go
because time stays,
gets too huge to budge.
We built numbers to fit
time as it goes up and up,
as we back away from it.
I love the whole thing, but especially that ending. It's pure Hannah.
ReplyDeleteinteresting. 'Time' is relative to our existence. Sprecial words from a special person may be considered 'big stuff' left for future humans.
ReplyDeleteSharing your words with us is 'big stuff'.
What interests me about time is that refresh button earth inhabitants have occasionally pushed that clears all the weight -- at what point does the whole thing go on a diet?
ReplyDeleteYour poem reminds me of some lines by David Antin: "light is heavy and falls / three hundred and sixty tons of light fall /from the sun on the earth every day."
From the beginning, years
ReplyDeletehave been love letters
to things that disappear
and remain.
This is a beautiful thought, and for me the whole poem crystallized around it, though I can quite see that that may not be how you wrote the poem.
Either way, it's a clever, original and beautiful poem.
I, too, especially admire the lines Dave cites, as well as the last three. You've taken a fascinating if abstract concept and rendered it in images we understand. Thought-provoking.
ReplyDeleteI also like the source of inspiration for your title.
I love this poem Hannah.
ReplyDeleteWhat's really weird is to think of all the time that occurred before we even had numbers to mark years!
Another beautiful poem, Hannah. Dave King quotes the same line I dearly wish I wrote. Bravo, Hannah!
ReplyDeleteI love the entire poem...I frequently think of the time when numbers were not invented...didn't they draw sticks on the walls? Genius! : )
ReplyDeleteTime stays -- it does, doesn't it. Loved this poem, Hannah.
ReplyDelete